


Warm Hearts

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 16:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16122806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: Of all the people to reply to her ad, it had to be him.She cleared her throat, a mask of mature professionalism taking over as she turned towards the clothing rack, heels clicking purposely across the tiled floor.It was ridiculous really to be angry at Jon Snow. It wasn’t his fault she had had a massive teenage crush on him when he used to come around to hang out with Robb. It wasn’t his fault she had never told him how much she liked him.For ValofWinterfell, who won the bid for my 200th fic :)





	Warm Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ValofWinterfell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValofWinterfell/gifts).



> I know I said smut valofwinterfell. But, well it didn't seem to want to happen. I might do a follow-up though ;)

_No, no, no!_

She was sure that her face was on fire as she stared at him, standing there, looking all adorably awkward with his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

Of all the people to reply to her ad, it had to be him.

She cleared her throat, a mask of mature professionalism taking over as she turned towards the clothing rack, heels clicking purposely across the tiled floor.

It was ridiculous really to be angry at Jon Snow. It wasn’t his fault she had had a massive teenage crush on him when he used to come around to hang out with Robb. It wasn’t his fault she had never told him how much she liked him.

She had been surprised that he had even remembered her name when he had come into the studio and come face to face with her when she opened the door. There went her fashion alias of Alayne Stone!

“So, um…I’m glad you’re doing well. You always wanted to design clothes. And now you’re a big-time magazine photographer!”

Her smile was tight. He was only being nice after all, there was no need to be rude to him. And again, he had no reason to believe that this little gig right now was the only success in her life at the moment.

She was in so much debt from pursuing this career, taking on so many unpaid apprenticeships to gain enough experience to be taken seriously. It had resulted in the humiliating option of asking Margaery for a favour. Luckily, Margaery hadn’t given her more money that she would need to pay back but rather gave her keys to a Winterfell apartment. Her family had several houses and flats across Westeros and she had claimed they never used the Winterfell one and it was completely empty, perfect for a little studio set-up.

And if Sansa was so broke that she had sneaked a camp bed, halogen heater, microwave and mini fridge in there on the pretense of using it for work, well who was to know really?

Once, Sansa had thought she would like nothing more than to live in King’s Landing. But the rose-tinted glasses had shattered within a year and she had moved back north. Her mother had told her she could move back in whenever she wanted. And Sansa felt bad, knowing her mother must be feeling lonely since her father had died from a sudden heart attack last year. Robb had offered his spare bed too as had Arya. But Sansa was proud, she didn’t want to rely on anyone else. And she certainly didn’t want to shack up in her siblings’ love nests!

Speaking of which, her love life was also a mess. Joffrey had been one of the reasons that she had come to hate the capital. She was only grateful that she hadn’t slept with him, although the last time she saw him, she feared he would force himself on her. She had screamed over and over, not knowing what else to do and a neighbour had come to the door.

Harry had seemed like a hero when he had knocked Joffrey backwards and wrapped his arm around her, taking her back to his apartment and sitting her down at the table before thrusting a glass of water under her nose.

Weeks passed of them passing awkwardly in the hallway, flirting smiles and hooded eyes before he had asked her out. She had accepted readily.

She hadn’t liked how snobby he was with the waiting staff, more or less telling them how he expected them to do their job. She had been quite embarrassed. But she was so desperate to make it work, so scared of being a failure at relationships when it was all she had talked about growing up – meeting the one, marrying and having two point five kids.

When he had kissed her outside her door, she had let him. He wasn’t a bad kisser really. And when she told him she wasn’t ready to go further, he had seemed as though he had accepted her answer as he kissed her cheek and bid her goodnight.

The next morning, she had gone to his to ask him to get a spider out of her flat for her. He had answered the door half naked, not totally unusual in itself. She had figured he had just woken up or was about to go into the shower.

It wasn’t until she heard the bang that anything suspicious entered her head and she had shoved him out of the way and stormed into the flat only to find two girls in his bed, the lamp that they had accidentally knocked over on its side on the floor.

She had packed up and returned home within days.

Jon certainly didn’t need to know all that.

“Right, so we’re doing an autumn and winter collection.”

“Okay,” Jon said, undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked, clutching a jacket from the railing in front of her as though she were the one getting half-naked.

“Getting ready to change into the clothes?” he replied slowly, his shirt dangling at his side.

Sansa’s traitorous eyes roamed across his defined chest and stomach, her tongue darting out of its own accord before she realised that she was literally licking her lips as though she were about to devour a chocolate bar. She turned swiftly, cursing as her cheeks heated up.

“Right, um…” She pulled a black wool hat from her pile of clothes, shoving it rather ungracefully onto his stupid, gorgeous curls.

Jon reached up tentatively, his brow creasing in confusion as he watched her grab a scarf.

“Um…Sansa? Wouldn’t it be better to have a jumper on first?”

“Oh, oh right…yeah,” she muttered, turning away again.

_Get a hold of yourself Sansa Stark. You’re not an innocent little girl anymore!_

_Well, apart from still being a virgin at twenty-three._

“So, since when do you model?” she asked, blindly holding out a red wool jumper towards him. Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingertips brushed her hand when he took it.

“Needed to pay the bills,” he replied. “My ex was the one who put the idea in my head. But this is my first photo shoot.”

Sansa nodded, thumb trailing the clothing line as the word ‘ex’ repeated in her head. She turned as he was pulling the jumper down over his waist.

 _Great, he’s just as hot when he is actually clothed too_!

Bunching the red and black scarf in her hands she tossed it around the back of his head, determinedly not looking into his stupidly gorgeous eyes as he watched her shift the material until it was sitting perfectly around his neck and dangling down his chest.

“Okay, so…” She gestured to the screen beside them before walking to her camera. “Right Jon. I want you to look to the side, deep in thought alright?”

Jon nodded, turning his body slightly as he complied. Sansa made a sound of approval, unconsciously rubbing her forehead as she thought about how sexy his broody stare was.

“Maybe…put a hand in your pocket? Yeah, perfect!”

She snapped a few shots of him like that before directing him again, this time to look rather shyly into the camera, with a hand behind his neck.

Satisfied with those photos, she moved back to the clothing rack and pulled out a black jacket and matching gloves. He remained still as she tugged the scarf away from him, replacing it with a white and grey one.

He lifted a hand up to stroke the wolves that were knitted into the material. “I like this one.”

“It was inspired by dad,” she replied, voice choking over the last word. “He loved wolves.”

“I’m sorry Sansa,” Jon whispered, squeezing her hand against his chest as tears started to blur her vision. “He was so proud of you, he would still be proud of you for continuing to move forward.”

She nodded, taking a shaky breath to shake herself from her grief.

“Oh wait, I forgot the jumper!”

It was another knitted one, grey and white to match the scarf. There were no wolves on it but she had been thinking of wolves when she had made it. She had wanted most of her clothes to reflect her father, who had loved winter and embraced the cold with warm clothes. She had only added in some of the other colours for choice.

“It suits you,” she murmured as he pulled the new one on. His smile was adorably shy.

“It is really comfy. You’ve got a gift Sansa.”

She shrugged off the compliment, even as her lips pressed together to stop her pleased smile. Still, it was hard not to be giddy when Jon complemented her because he was so sincere with his soft eyes and sweet smile.

"I think we should use the grey hat," she said, picking up the item.

Jon pulled the black one off and stood still as she placed the grey one over his head, her eyes firmly on his curls.

Yet she could see Jon's eyes watching her carefully, could feel her cheeks burning from the intensity. And her flush only deepened when her eyes finally dropped to meet his and then slowly down to his lips.

"Sansa..."

She inhaled sharply at his husky tone, stepping away from him quickly. She couldn't think about how his lips would feel against hers, how much she longed to feel his beard rub against her skin. Those thoughts had plagued her since she was fifteen. And if she hadn't had the courage to tell him how she felt then, to make her move when she hadn't fucked up most aspects of her life, why on earth would he be interested in her now, when all but this had gone tits up?

"How do you want me?"

_Naked and on the bed?_

"Just...um...look towards the camera. A... a soft look, like, you're going home to your lover."

He nodded taking his place in front of the screen and Sansa fixed the camera for the photo. But as Jon's eyes cut across, she felt the breath catch in her throat. He practically had a look of awe on his face, his eyes soft and focused entirely on her face, his lips slightly parted. Sansa bit her lip, her gaze flitting to the floor in shyness. Never in her life had she been looked at like that by a man. She had recieved lustful looks, plenty of those. But a look of pure love like Jon was giving her now...it was something she had always wanted.

"You're good," she said with a nervous chuckle. "You should be an actor if modelling doesn't work out," she attempted to joke, grimacing at how forced her voice sounded. She quickly snapped the photos to distract herself.

"Who says I'm acting?"

She paused, her head rising slowly to look at him. He was staring so intently at her, those damn heart eyes making her stomach perform somersaults.

"Jon, I...I don't know what Robb has told you," she moaned, covering her face with her hands. "But, my life has been pretty awful these past couple of years. I live here because I can't afford to rent anywhere and I'm too proud to move back home with mother. And I can't live with Robb or Arya because, as much as I love that they're happy with Jeyne and Gendry, it would only remind me that my own love life is not only non-existent now, but has always been so. I know nothing about a relationships. And I have debts up to my ears. And I'm still not over Dad's death!"

Jon blinked, a small frown forming between his eyes as Sansa took a steadying breath. It hurt, to be so brutally honest with him and sever her chance. But she couldn't give him false hope that she was the successful, determined girl he had once known. He didn't deserve to be dragged down by her shitty life.

"And yet, here you are," he said, spreading his arms out. "You're still standing. All that hit you and while you're grieving. Sansa, you're the strongest person I know. I, well, I always liked that about you."

"Always?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow as Jon flushed.

"I had such a crush on you," he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I kept coming over, pretending I was coming to see Robb when I was actually hoping to talk to you and ask you out but I always lost my nerve."

Sansa fell back into her chair, blinking in shock. "You had a crush on me?"

"Major crush. As in, my mother kept asking me what your favourite colour was so she could get me a matching tie for when I asked you to the school dance."

Sansa giggled before shaking her head again. "Why didn't you? Didn't you know I liked you too?"

"You did?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Are you kidding? Mister kind, thoughtful and adorably broody?"

"Well shit, now  _I_ feel like a failure," he huffed before he grinned at her. "Maybe we're meant to be after all."

"Two losers in a pod," she agreed, watching him with rapt interest as he bit his lip. "What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Gods yes," she moaned, already on her feet as he reached her.

His curls were soft beneath her fingertips as their lips met and she clutched him close. He moaned softly against her mouth, as though nothing had ever felt so good to him. It certainly hadn't to her. She had only had a handful of kisses from boys in her life but Jon was talented. His whole body was involved in kissing her, from the way his hand stroked her back and the other cupped her cheek to how he pressed them as close together as possibly. And despite always loving her fairy tales, she had never quite believed in the whole weak-in-the-knees thing until right now, when she felt as though she may collapse if Jon were to ever let her go.

Unfortunately, they did need to break apart eventually though Sansa took an embarrassingly long time to open her eyes, sure she had the dorkiest expression on her face as she met his eyes. He smiled softly, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly.

"So, what do you say hmmm?" he asked. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"If you kiss me like that again then you have a deal."


End file.
